


Go and get 'em, tiger

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Caring, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Praise Kink, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16111901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Ivan and Luka share some emotional moments before the FIFA Best award ceremony.





	Go and get 'em, tiger

**Author's Note:**

> I know it couldn't happen and all but this is just a fic. Also - the truth is Luka would be very much cheating on his wife is bad, really bad (because they are perfect for each other), but I ship him with Ivan so much I just can't help it. That's why this fic contains mentions of Vanja as well.  
> As always, sorry for any possible mistakes.

"I still can't believe this," Ivan smiled, fixing Luka's bowtie for the fifth time and then placing his hands on the smaller man's shoulders. " _The best player in the world_ \- and I'm here with him."

"I'm not the best - well, _not yet_ for sure - " Luka countered. "Don't be such a fanboy."

"How could I not?" His eyes were shining with the soft, caring love Luka could always see - it appeared out of nowhere whenever he looked at him. "You are the best, no matter the awards or official statements. You don't need to wear a crown to be the king. No - you don't need _any crown_. You have a halo around your head."

 Luka chuckled, looking away.

"No, no - just look at yourself. Can't you see?" He dragged Luka in front of the wall mounted mirror that had lights over it. Luka's hair really looked like some sort of an angelic halo in the dim lighting of the room.

 "It's just the hair - "

"No - Luka. Come on. Look at it." He stood behind him and by wrapping his arms around his shoulders and back, he made him stand straight and look in the mirror. "Can't you see?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ivan."

"Luka. Please. Try to see yourself in the same light I do." His voice was compelling and urgent, as if nothing was more important than this, as if Luka was not required to leave in ten minutes. "Don't look away, Luka. This is important. Just look at yourself. What do you see?"

 Luka shrugged, sighing. "Nothing - just - you know - me and you... And _we look really good together_."

"Yeah," Ivan smiled, his eyes meeting Luka's in the reflection. "Now let me tell you what I see, okay?" He smoothed some of Luka's hair on the back of his head and let his hand slide down until it was on the back of Luka's neck, and he let it rest there, fingers caressing the skin that could be seen in the flood of golden hair. "I see an angel that blesses us with his presence."

 "Stop," Luka laughed, bowing his head, nervous upon hearing the words. "That's just stupid."

 "You're not even trying. Hey. Look at that face. Look at that hair, look - "

"I know what I look like," Luka said, closing his eyes at _such stupid game_ that Ivan was making him play.

"The facial features - it all makes you stand out."

"Yeah, I'm not a fashion model guy - "

"No, no, Luka - come on - you are _perfect_." Ivan placed his hands on the sides of Luka's head, making sure that he can't look away now. "Those eyes - you have so beautiful eyes, so soft, so tender, so...full of love. I can see how much you love the game, how much you give in every game. Anyone with a bit of emotional intelligence can see and sense that. You are a real, brave player, and it's all in your eyes when you play - everyone can see how much the game means to you, that you live and breathe for it, you'd give your whole life for playing just one game more - And you don't need the spotlight, you don't need to have all the cameras turned on you, you don't need to check your hairstyle and tan and perfectly exposed muscles - you are a miracle just by yourself. You in your own body - you don't need any plastic surgeries and fake tans and plucked eyebrows, whitened teeth or crazy tattoos. It's just you and your passion for the game."

Luka's cheeks turned crimson red. "Stop that, Ivan."

 "I'm not lying, Luka. It's all the truth. This is what I see when I look at you. And if this does not make the best player in the world, then please tell me what does."

Luka shook his head, moved by such kind words - but unwilling to show so. His eyes were fixed on the ground and on his stylish shoes that his wife picked for him. "I'm just - not used to this... I've never played for getting compliments, I - I mean it's nice but it's not the reason...."

"You should start getting used to it. Now, when you get voted the best player - "

" _If_ ," Luka corrected him, resuming the eye contact through the mirror again.

" _When_ you get voted the best player in the world," Ivan insisted, squeezing Luka's shoulders. "People will hurry in and say they've always loved you and believed in you and how much of an amazing player you are - "

"I don't care about _them_."

 "The world is finally starting to realize what I have always known, Lukita. That you are not only an amazing player but also an amazing person." He pulled himself closer to Luka and wrapped his arms around him possessively; not their reflection in the mirror was perfect, with Ivan standing behind Luka, holding him in a protective manner from behind. "And that means so much more. You never give up. You'd be able to play until your last breath - sometimes you make me so worried. And it's not only when we play for Croatia - I'm worried about you whenever I watch you play any match for Madrid. Hell, I'm worried about you during the _clásicos_. You're always so hard-working, so brave, so persistent. I don't know where does all this energy come from - you're unbelievable. How do these legs carry you, how do you run so fast, how do you move your body in the most fantastic ways - " He stopped, taking a breath and watching Luka's face with uncontrolled love and care. "How, Lukita? How can anyone be so perfect?"

 "I - I don't know," Luka stuttered, cheeks burning. "I'm - certainly not perfect - I'm far from perfect, really - "

"How can you say that, Lukita? Do you see what I see?" He moved his hand, grabbing his chin and making him look forward, right in the mirror. "The beautiful man - in a perfectly fitted suit? The best player in the world - the most amazing human being - the guy who's known as Luka Modrić and whom I - by some absurd luck that I cannot quite understand - can call _Lukita_? Is that you?"

"You're really in a poetic mood tonight - "

"You're a work of art, Luka. You're the God's finest creation, you make me want to cry - just - _how_?" He really blinked much faster now, and his hand moved back down to Luka's bowtie to fix it for the sixth time today. " _How are you so perfect_?" he asked, and his voice was shaking, heavy with the tears that haven't come out yet.

 "I don't know what to say, Ivan. I don't know - "

"You don't need to say anything, Luka. You're saying everything just by - breathing and being here." He pressed his burning lips against the back of Luka's head, and the feeling of fluffy hair all around him felt so nice he got lost for a moment in the smell and touch of it. He took a few deep breaths and kissed him some more before pulling away, forgetting the mirror. "Is this all? Are you ready?"

"I'm not," Luka laughed softly. "There will be so many people and - I don't really like that."

"They all came to see the best player in - "

"Stop that. I haven't won anything yet."

"Yet. In one hour, you'll be officially crowned." He couldn't resist - he placed his right hand on the top of Luka's head. "On this blessed head."

"You're so nice, Ivan. I really don't know what to say - you're just - unbelievable."

"You deserve this so much."

 "I don't - but thank you."

"Of course you do!" Ivan snapped, grabbing Luka's shoulders again. "You deserve this - so - fucking - much. Luka. Listen. You are here today because you are the best. You. Are. The. Best. And if some fucker sabotages the results and you don't win the award tonight - I will still say this. You are the best. Luka. Listen to me. You are the best and you deserve all the happiness in this world. I will say this every time I see you - I'll record you a message to listen to every morning as you wake up - I'll write this to you every day - _You are the best_. _You deserve only the best._ "

"Ivan - Ivan, you're getting too emotional. There's no need to cry! Please. Don't. I - I can manage. I don't want you to cry - "

Ivan sobbed, shaking his head. "I'm just - so proud of you, you know? It's just that. You look absolutely breathtaking. I just wish I could...make you think the same."

"Thanks, I'm - I'm really flattered."

"Oh God," Ivan sighed, pulling Luka into an embrace and kissing his temple after that. "I guess it's time you went and showed those fuckers out there who's the best then, right?"

"Yeah - " Luka tried to look at his wristwatch, although Ivan was squeezing him almost to the point of it being uncomfortable. "Vanja's probably waiting and I don't - you know - I don't want to keep everyone waiting just for me. I'd much rather just somehow slip inside and leave the cameras for the other."

"You'll be amazing on the red carpet," Ivan proclaimed, letting him out of the tight embrace. "Smile a little, come on. Don't look to the ground, Luka. Come on. Smile proudly. You're the best player in the world." He looked at Luka from head to toe. "Where's that brooch you talked about?"

"The brooch? Oh - I didn't really think it was fitting - I don't know, Vanja said it looked good but - I'm just - not - _a brooch kind of guy_?" Luka laughed nervously, shrugging. Ivan spotted the brooch on the drawer. 

"Well - if your wife says it suits you - you really should wear it," he said, taking it from there. 

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to - I'm sorry if it hurts you or - Jesus, it's so hard to find the right words and _the compromise_ , you know?"

"Why _sorry_ , Luka? I don't mind you saying this. I guess - after all, we seem to have the same taste, at least when it comes to brooches - and you." He looked at the jewel closely, watching its delicate details. "It really looks good. You should wear it. It will go well with your look and - " He brought the brooch to his lips and kissed it gently as a beloved relic that was long lost but now found. "I hope it will bring you luck," he finished, pinning it on Luka's suit.

"Thank you."

Ivan finished the installation of the jewel and stepped away. "Perfect. No other words do you justice, Luka. Just perfect."

 "Thank you so much for being here, Ivan. I think I'd go crazy if I was alone now. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for this - "

"We'll think of something. Where's your hairbrush?" 

"In the top drawer - " 

 Ivan turned to find it. "Come here. Your hair is so wild." He brushed Luka's golden hair with the patience of a caring servant, making sure it was leaving his hair soft and fluffy. " _Now_ it's perfect. I would kiss you but I don't want to spoil this masterpiece that you are."

"You can all you want, Ivan." Luka threw his hands back around Ivan's neck. "For good luck."

The kiss was soft and tender, not pushing any of them any further, not trying to be anything else.

 _"_ So - it's time," Ivan whispered when pulling away, tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes. " _Go and get them, tiger_."


End file.
